


Roomates, Is That What We Are?

by artemine



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Hate to Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, because i'm making this shit up as i go along bear with me fam, i lied fake dating is the trashiest trope honestly, the trashiest trope, this is a fic for all your college fake dating au i know we all need this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:51:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemine/pseuds/artemine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m not here to make friends,” answered Damen with a terrible imitation of Laurent’s voice. “I’m here to become America’s next top model.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. America's Next Top Model

**Author's Note:**

> i apologize to cs pacat for making this out of her wonderful books  
> and also shoutout @ bre for forcing me to do this and also finding the title

Damen walked down the stairs of the buildings he had come to know by heart, apologizing to every person he collided into, hurrying through the crowd of new and old students, carrying bags and books and suitcases. Damen had, as usual, lived in the campus over the summer, and he was more excited than anyone else at the thought of a bunch of first years going around. Life in the summer was lonely, repetitive, and despite the warm weather, the hallways seemed very cold with no one to fill them. And yet, he had managed to be late again. Damen was taking care of a bunch of first years that were forced to go through initiation day. As far as he could remember, he had good memories of his first day on campus. His mentor had been more than kind to him, and he did not know if he could have made it without him. Now that he was a last year, too, he had not hesitated an instant when they asked him to give back the favor. He reached the entrance of the campus, a thin layer of sweat over his brown skin. A lot of people would have looked embarrassed at arriving running late, sweating and panting, knowing this would be their first impression, but Damen was not that kind of people. He put his hands on his waist as he joined the other seniors that were supposed to split the first years into groups, and smiled at everyone.

“And if you were wondering, the campus is actually huge, which may seem like a curse if you’re late like me, but is actually really nice.”

A bunch of the new students standing in front of him started laughing, and he chuckled back. _Nice one, Damen!_ He told himself, proud of his good impression. He scanned the crowd, noticing they had already split in little groups. He turned to the other seniors, frowning.

“Did I miss something?”

“Uh,” one of them answered. Damen was practically sure he was a classics major, but he could not have remembered his name to save his life. “The bus that was supposed to take half of them from the airport to here never came, so they’ll be here later. We’re starting now with what we have. You get… him. His name is Laurent.”

The man pointed to a student that Damen had not even noticed, standing away from the groups, his arm crossed against his chest. He squinted at Damen skeptically, which Damen found pretty rude. The first year reminded him of someone, but his brain was working on wondering why he had not noticed him before- he stood out in the busy crowd around him, hair so blond they were practically white under the sun, skinny but elegant, a face with thin traits and a look of ridiculous superiority that somehow felt like it was justified, but annoyed Damen. He looked like he stood out anywhere.

“Right. This one. Only this one?” asked Damen, confused.

One of the senior girls in his year grabbed his arm, pushing him away from the group. She lowered her voice as she explained the situation. “Look, blame yourself for being late. He refused to be in any group, and even if he did, every first year walked away from him when they were asked to be put into teams. If he doesn’t want to be here, no one particularly wants to be here with him either. I don’t know what’s his deal, so I’m leaving it to you to find out.”

Damen turned back to the first year, that had not moved, only looked at the conversation going on like he knew exactly what was happening. Damen was both scared and impressed. He decided to face the young man with courage and optimism, because he didn’t know how to face any problem any other way.

“Hello, friend, my name is Damen. I’m sure you’ll like it here!”

“Friend?” said Laurent, still squinting, still looking at Damen like he had personally offended him just by existing. There was something in the man’s eyes that called for a challenge, but Damen was not sure what it was yet. Besides the fact it was attractive, for some reason. Which Damen noticed, and pretended to ignore. _Not now_ , he told himself.

“Friend. Noun. A person with whom one has a bond of mutual affection, typically one exclusive of sexual or family relations,” answered Damen.

“Why do you have the definition of the word _friend_ memorized?”

“It’s so I can explain it to guys like you, that say the word like it’s an abstract concept,” snapped Damen as he turned around, hoping the blond man would follow without making any other annoying comment. He thought about the visit he had planned for the first years, without realizing he could very much get stuck with someone that did not even want to visit. It seemed the universe had decided to be a bitch today.

“I mean,” answered Laurent, following close behind, “You’re the one that arrived late and alone to the party, and got stuck with me. Are you really sure you’re in the position to talk about friends?”

Damen turned around, sighing, and noticed the man was struggling to get his suitcase rolling, while at the same time pretending he had no trouble doing it. Damen walked closer to him, considered helping. The man did not look nice, but maybe it was just the stress of being new somewhere he did not know, maybe it was anxiety, maybe it was just tiredness from the trip. He couldn’t be that bad.

“Do you need any help?”

“Listen, I know my way around here, and I really don’t need a guide.” answered smoothly the angel-faced first year, that looked a lot less like an angel than he had the first time Damen had laid eyes on him. Every time he opened his mouth, it’s like the halo faded a little more. “I’m a grown man. I’ll be fine.”

Damen stared. “I mean, you don’t look all that grown. I wouldn’t go as far as calling you tiny, but really. Look at those arms. They will never manage to carry this suitcase. You are just too small.”

Laurent turned his head to give Damen a death stare, that actually made him take a step back. Many could have thought it was the kind of death stare that had been practiced over the years, but Damen felt that Laurent had been born with it. It did not look out of place on his face, but more like it was his neutral expression. He did not look so small, all of a sudden. Laurent went back to his suitcase, finally managing to get it rolling, walking past Damen like he did not exist. He headed straight to the dorms, and Damen realized that maybe he _did_ knew his way around. Damen followed him anyway, because he was still his responsibility, and he also wanted to know how things would turn out for him once he realized the elevator was broken and he would have to climb the stairs to get to his room.

As he stared at the blond’s back, Damen realized he knew who Laurent was. Something in the way Laurent held himself, head high and unapologetic, like walking was proving an undeniable point, made his brain work properly again. _How could have I not guessed right away?_ He would have to check, but deep down, he knew he could not be wrong. Damen had known Laurent’s brother. He tried not to think about it, walking slowly behind the first year, that was making people’s head turn in his path. Auguste had had the same effect, but not for the same reasons. Damen remembered Auguste to have been friendly, loved by everyone, popular enough for a lot of the students to reach out to him easily, and very often. His little brother had a slightly different aura. Where Auguste had radiated warmth, Laurent was the opposite. People turned not because they wanted to talk, they turned because they definitely did not want to be in the way, or get accidentally too close. In any case, the Veres were making impressions anywhere they went. Damen could respect that. Even coming from what looked like a shithead version of what Auguste had been for Damen. He felt a burst of sadness chewing at his heart when he thought of Auguste too much, and he hurried up to catch up with Laurent and get his head cleared out of any negative thoughts, which were never welcome. Not on such a sunny day.

Someone opened the doors of the building for Laurent as he struggled with his suitcase again, getting visibly more and more angry at it. He managed to take it outside and stared at the out of order sign on the elevator. The same death stare, aimed at unanimated object, which Damen found actually hilarious. A skinny ball of carefully controlled fury, mentally fighting with the broken elevator. Damen snorted, and Laurent turned to him again. This time, Damen was ready, and met his stare with what could have been best described as a shit eating grin.

“What’s your room number?”

Laurent refused to answer, which Damen took as a sign it was probably on the last floor. That made him chuckle, and he started climbing the stairs, leaving Laurent behind. This was much funnier than it should have been, but he had no pity for pretentious spoiled children. Laurent fit in that category perfectly, from what Damen knew of his family. Auguste had been much better company. Laurent dragged his bag at the bottom of the stairs silently, and Damen watched him consider how he would get it up. There was a heavy silence.

“You should have eaten your greens when you were young,” commented Damen as he got to the next floor, glaring at Laurent from there. Laurent raised his head to look at him, and Damen was surprised to find a glint of mischief in there.

He watched as Laurent waited a little, only to stop the first person that looked like he had enough muscles to carry the heavy suitcase. Damen recognized the student. It was also a senior, who was part of the college’s rugby team. Damen could not stand him. His name was Jord, and they had been in a competitive relationship since the first time they had set foot on campus. They would ever have admitted they had no idea why they were making a competition out of everything, but it had been that way for years. The only good thing that could come out of this was that Damen knew Jord would never be kind enough to carry another man’s suitcase up so many floors for free. As pretty as Laurent was, Damen was sure he would lose this round. He tried to listen to what Laurent was telling the senior year, and failed. A few minutes later, Jord was eyeing Damen, shaking his head. He grabbed Laurent’s suitcase and climbed up, Laurent following him. The blond man smiled at Damen behind Jord, a smile that probably meant something like _suck it_. Jord stopped next to Damen when he reached where he was standing, and shook his head again.

“Refusing to help your own first year’s suitcase when he told you he hurt his arm a while ago? Not cool, man, not cool,” he told him, clicking his tongue.  
  
“What the f-,” started Damen, but Jord was already making his way up the second set of stairs. “You believed him?”

He turned to watch Laurent, that was talking to group of first year. They all turned to glare at him as Laurent pointed. The stiffness that had been present in Laurent’s walk earlier had disappeared, and he looked at ease around the group, something that surprised Damen more than he was willing to admit. This was a different Laurent, who was making everyone in that first group stare at him intensely. It was like the man had turned on a magnetic pull, that forced the people around to listen to him. Damen couldn’t hear from there, and so he walked forward, wondering what he had ever done to the universe to deserve this kind of treatment. Damen was nice. Everyone knew that. He had to make sure Laurent would not be spreading shit about him just because he had been offended by the fact Damen was taller than him. As he reached the group, Laurent turned to him.

“Good luck, then,” said one of the first years, and they all scattered different ways, eyeing Damen like he had killed their mother. “The girl that showed us the way this morning looked much nicer than he does.”

Before Damen had time to answer, Laurent was the only one standing in front of him. Damen opened his mouth to speak, and did the fish for a few seconds, trying to come up with something clever. By the time he had found the lame what do you think you’re doing question, Laurent was up the second floor. Damen followed again, groaning. He decided to stay silent until he had time to get his revenge. They went up five floors, and Jord let Laurent get his suitcase back in the corridor of the fifth.

“Thank you, Jord,” smiled Laurent. Damen could swear he had seen him bat his eyelashes. It seemed to have remarkable effect on Jord, that looked like a puppy that deserved a treat.

“Anytime…?”

“Laurent,” he answered with an even smoother smile.

“Laurent. Well, I hope we’ll see each other around. If you need any help,” said Jord, pointing at the stairs, “I’m in the fourth floor’s dorm. Don’t hesitate, considering the person you got stuck with today.”

“Much appreciated. He is a pain. But I’m sure we’ll work around that.”

Damen threw his hands in the air. “I am literally _right here_.”

“Good,” answered Laurent without looking at him. “Then you can’t say you weren’t aware you’re an unnecessary pain in the ass.”

Damen mumbled something that sounded like _I’ll show you pain in the ass_ , and Laurent turned his head to catch his eyes, with the look of a parent that had just heard his child saying a swear word under his breath. Damen did not bother with it, and walked down the hallway, seeking the comfort of his bed he could not believe he had ran from this morning to face first years with all the hope in the world it would go perfectly fine. He let Laurent and Jord suck each other’s dicks behind him, opening the door to his room with a sigh. The bed at the other end of the room was still immaculate, nothing compared to the mess that was his side. He had pictures and posters all over the wall, and a pile of clothes were lying on his desk, that he still had to clean. For a moment he wondered if his roommate would be as annoying as Laurent, and told himself to face the day with optimism and trust. Good things happened to good people, and Damen was good. At least he was trying to be. Was that even the saying? The door opened with a slam a minute after Damen had settled on his bed with his computer, and he raised his head, surprised. Laurent was looking at him. He let his suitcase fall on the floor with a loud thud. They stared at each other with both despair and anger.

“Hilarious,” said Damen weakly.

“Yes, I agree,” answered Laurent.

The silence stretched on. Damen, finally, chose to be the bigger man, and got up from his bed, extending his hand to Laurent in a gesture of peace.

“If we’re going to do this, let’s start over. Forget the terrible start we both had to go through. I’m sorry.” Laurent did not react. Damen extended his hand a little further. “We can shake hands, make it official. Become the best friends and roommates in the world.”

Laurent glared at his hand like he had a very contagious disease. He raised his head, moved a strand of his blond hair out of his eyes, and pushed his suitcase to his bed. Very lightly, with a smile on his face, Laurent finally answered.

“You can shove that hand up your ass. And clean your side of the room.”  
  
“I’m not here to make friends,” answered Damen with a terrible imitation of Laurent’s voice. “I’m here to become America’s next top model.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing,” muttered Damen as he threw himself back onto his bed. If Laurent wanted a war, that’s what he would have. It broke Damen’s heart to know he would not have a good relationship with his roommate like he had wanted to for years, but he did not lose hope. Maybe this was Laurent’s way to make friends. Rudeness and threats. Everyone was different. Damen could live with that.

“Seriously, you’re going to have to clean your side of the room,” said Laurent, his back turned to him.

I mean, Damen guessed he could _try_ to live with that. He told himself again that Laurent couldn’t be that bad. He was Auguste’s little brother, after all. 


	2. Pride and Prejudice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!! things are starting to get real and i hope y'all will enjoy it xx

The rest of the day had went excruciatingly slowly. Damen had tried to look at things positively, as he always did, telling himself that if Laurent did not want a guide, then it meant he had the whole day to himself. Then he remembered he hated having the day to himself, and had walked around campus, helping around where he could, showing freshmen the way to various buildings, helping out parents to get the suitcases up the stairs, and he had even, at some point, ended up climbing a small tree to help second years that had stuck the rugby ball they were playing with in a tree. His goal was to stay away from both the room and his roommate as long as possible, not only to keep calm, but also to give Laurent a chance to reconsider his position about the whole thing. Surely he could not be mad forever. Damen was still thinking about what he possibly could have done to offend the man, and when he came up with nothing, he realized that maybe it was just that it had been a long trip, and that he was tired, and that somehow Damen had rub him the wrong way. This would get better, he was sure of it. This would not be the first time Damen had to overcome a bad start with someone. Around 1pm, He came across the group of freshmen Laurent had talked into not trusting him and went out of his way to have lunch with them, repeating that he was nice, and friendly, and deserved to be treated as such the whole time. They had seemed convinced of that fact when he left, and he internally forgave Laurent. He’d actually have to thank him later, for allowing him to make new friends in the process. He wasn’t too sure if the blond would be receptive to it, but like everything, it was worth a try.

            He was forced to come back to his room in the evening, seeking money for dinner. He thought he would be more nervous about seeing his roommate again after the disaster that had been the morning, but as it turned out, he realized he had been in kind of a hurry all day to be able to talk to him again. Which had, of course, nothing to do with the fact that he was more than nice to look at and everything to do with that thing where he wanted to make amends and start over. He opened the door of the room and was surprised to find it empty. He was disappointed, but refused to admit it to himself, and looked for what he wanted. He sat down on his bed to rummage through his bag, and ended up staring at the other side of the room with curiosity and interest. It was extremely tidy, and if at first glance it looked dull and mostly devoid of any personal belongings, Damen noticed little things that gave the room tiny bits of Laurent. A picture on the side of his bedside table. A pair of sneakers at the foot of the bed, with next to it, carefully placed on top of each other, a big amount of what seemed to be DVDs, and finally a huge pile of books on his desk, that Damen wondered where he had gotten from. His suitcase must have been really heavy. He refrained himself from opening the wardrobe and check out the rest of Laurent’s stuff. He guessed that it would not make their relationship better. Damen got up, completely forgetting what he was here for, walking to the man’s desk to see what the books were about. He didn’t even know what major Laurent was in, and tried to guess. Not a single book was about any school related subject. He got closer to the pile of movies, wondering if Laurent knew the existence of a hard drive, and realizing he was not that surprised that of all people _he_ would keep physical copies of movies because somehow he liked it better. He sat down on the floor, getting a better look at the pile. 15 minutes later, he was going through the entire thing, making another pile of the movie he already saw, nodding silently at Laurent’s good taste.

            15 minutes and 45 seconds later, he heard the door open and loudly went _fuck_ as he struggled to get up while putting everything back in order. He failed, and raised his head as Laurent walked up next to him, looking down on him with an unreadable expression on his face. Damen smiled, looking for a good excuse, his brain going entirely blank as Laurent crossed his arm on his chest, deliberately slow, silent and waiting for an explanation that did not come.

            “You’re back!” managed to say Damen, clearing his throat.

            “Inconvenient, I know,” answered Laurent, standing impossibly still.

            “You have good taste in movies,” said Damen weakly after a long moment of silence. He picked one randomly in the pile, glanced at the title, and showed it to Laurent. “ _25 th Hour. _A personal favorite.”

            Laurent stared. “Is that so?”

            There was another awkward silence, that Damen guessed was only awkward for him. He got up, putting the DVD back in the pile slowly, adjusting it so that it was all straight and proper, the way it had been before he destroyed it. He coughed. “Yeah… The way… Edward Norton… plays… that guy…” His voice slowly faded to silence.

            “You’ve never seen it before, have you?”

            “I didn’t even know this movie existed,” answered Damen.

            Laurent moved, as excruciatingly slowly as he could, allowing Damen go back to his side. He walked back to his bed and grabbed his bag again, pretending to look for something other than his wallet. If he could have hid his entire body inside the bag, he would have. He pondered if putting his head in it to avoid Laurent’s eyes, that kept following every single one of his movement would be a bad move or a good one. Damen tried to start the conversation again, get things going, or at least piss him off enough so that he’d stop glaring aggressively. Anything would be better than the silence that was taking up the entire room.

            “So… What are you studying?”

            “Don’t go through my stuff again,” answered Laurent, finally turning his back to him, grabbing the first book from the pile and sitting down on his bed.

            Damen felt miserable. He wondered if it showed. In case it didn’t, and Laurent mistook his expression for something else, he felt compelled to say it out loud. “Look, Laurent, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry or anything, I was just curious.”

            “Then keep your curiosity out of my stuff. You don’t see me going around and opening your cupboard and looking at your books,” said Laurent, not raising his eyes from the book. He turned a page, contempt showing very clearly on his face. Damen’s only thought was that he never could have read that page so fast, and that he was full of shit. Laurent started talking again. “Although if you don’t see me doing that it’s probably because I find absolutely no interest in you whatsoever, so, you never really know.” This time, the man raised his eyes, giving Damen a venomous smile.

            Damen dropped his bag on the floor, getting up, suddenly angry at the whole situation. “What did I ever do to you? I’ve only been nice to you. I don’t deserve this.”

            Laurent closed his book and put it next to him on his bed. He was silent for a few seconds, which made Damen’s anger waver. It showed that Laurent was thinking about the whole thing, choosing his words carefully, something he seemed to do every time he had to open his mouth. Damen wondered what Laurent looked like when he wasn’t so composed, and wished he’d be here to see it when it happened. He put that thought in the back of his mind for future reference, trying to get back to the anger he had been feeling a few seconds ago. Finally, Laurent shrugged.

            “Fair enough.”

            “Fair enough.” repeated Damen. _What’s that supposed to mean_ , he thought, and then decided against saying it. He pretended he understood what Laurent was saying in subtext and sat back down on his bed. He felt compelled to add something, because the situation was still too weird for his comfort. “I just don’t want us to be mad at each other over nothing. Let’s apologize,” he said for good measure, stopping Laurent halfway through retrieving his book. “It’s important. Forgiving, and all of that. I’m sorry I went through your stuff.”

            “Apologies accepted. Thank you.” Laurent reopened the book.

            Damen’s mouth opened and stayed that way for a whole minute, until he realized and closed it. He was about to say something, to tell him he was the rudest person he ever met, or that forgiveness was supposed to go both ways, or that he could go fuck himself, or that Damen would gladly help him go fuck himself, and then his train of thought was lost again and he changed his mind about saying anything. Until Laurent started laughing. The sound was more adorable than Damen would have wished for it to be. He laughed too, until he realized he didn’t know why he was laughing.

            “You should have seen your face,” smiled Laurent as he closed his book again, getting up. “Buy me dinner and we’re even.”

            Damen got up as quickly as he could, retrieving his wallet. That he could do. The whole situation was starting to look a lot better. “You still have to apologize. You know, forgiveness, all that.”

            “One thing at a time,” Laurent answered. “You don’t want to rush it and blow it, do you?”

            “I’d blow you”, answered Damen very quietly. Laurent turned his head as he walked out the door, giving him a weird look. Damen panicked. “What?”

            “Did you say something?”

            “I didn’t,” said Damen. Laurent cocked his head to one side. “No, for real. I didn’t.”

            Laurent shrugged and walked out the door. Damen made a fist pump in the air in his back, extremely happy about how things were going. Maybe he’d finally have that roommate slash best friend situation that he’d wanted since he first arrived in college. The first year, he had been paired with a senior that had absolutely no interest in him. The second, his roommate had dropped out during the first two months, leaving him with an entire room to himself. The first third year he had went through had started well and went terribly halfway through, leaving him with yet another empty bed on the other side of the room, that had traumatized him enough for him to fail the year. And here he was now. His last chance to have that in college, and then it would be medical school, and all of it would be less fun. Pre-med was his one shot. And as he looked at Laurent walking in front of him, he realized that karma was finally going his way, and that it was an extremely nice shot. Laurent cut his train of thought by talking again.

            “Where do you want to eat?”

            “I don’t care. You’re the one that asked me to pay, so go wherever,” answered Damen. “Whatever makes you happy.”

            Laurent scoffed. Damen caught up to him pretty quickly, noticing with a glint of amusement in his eyes that as he took a step, Laurent had to take two. They went down the five floors, Laurent repeatedly stopping to greet people as he walked past, which puzzled Damen a great deal. At first glance, the blond man had not looked like someone that was very keen on being surrounded by friends. Maybe Damen had got it all wrong. Which puzzled him even more, considering Laurent had been very rude to him from the beginning. He did not have anything that was particularly different from anyone else in those dorms. They went past Jord, that invited Laurent to have dinner with him, acting like the 6 feet man right behind Laurent was entirely invisible. Laurent had the grace to decline and tell him that he would be happy to go another day, and they finally reached the pizza place near campus that Laurent chose at random. They sat down in a corner of the restaurant.

            “You never told me what you were majoring in,” started Damen, hoping to get the conversation going as smoothly as possible.

            “Law,” answered Laurent as the waitress went to give them a menu. “You're doing pre-med, right?”

            Damen nodded, thanking the waitress with a smile. “You seem to know your way around campus already. How did that happen?” He gathered he had asked the wrong question instantly. Laurent’s eyes darkened and he glared at the menu as if Damen had never said a word and as if the name and ingredients of pizzas were a very complicated, interesting thing to read. Damen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and as the silence stretched on, Damen found, too, a new interest in a menu he already knew by heart.

            Not a word was a said until the waitress came back to them, asking what they wanted to drink. Laurent decided he wanted a beer, and Damen noticed Laurent's right eyebrow raised at him when he ordered water.

            “And I’ll also get the most expensive pizza you have,” added Laurent just as she was about to leave. Damen extended his palms on the table, in a _why you gotta do this_ gesture, that went ignored.

            “Did you choose yet?”

            “I want this one”, he pointed on the menu, trying to ignore Laurent’s smirk in front of him.

            They were alone again a few minutes later, and Damen was free to wonder if Laurent was comfortable in the silences he forced upon him, or if it was just because he really had nothing to say to him. Both options made him kind of sad, and he kept on thinking about another subject of conversation, not discouraged in the least. Laurent would need to double his effort for him to be truly angry enough to let it go. It practically never happened with anyone. He hoped Laurent had at least realized that.

            “Alright let’s try again,” started Damen. He was about to ask him something like _do you have any pets_ and changed his mind at the last time. “Tell me about _25 th Hour._”

            “I’ll lend you the DVD,” answered Laurent. “Or, you know, you can just take it I guess. You seem to be the kind of guy to do that.”

            Damen sighed. “Listen, we’re here to put this behind us. If you want, you can go through my stuff, so that we’re equal.” He stopped, and then added quickly before Laurent could say anything back, “Though if I let you do that, you’ll have to pay for your own pizza. You can’t get free food _and_ a free pass to look in my things.”

            Laurent smiled. “I’m not really interested in your things. I’ll keep the food.”                                

            Damen nodded, visibly relieved. “You know, Laurent, I think we can make this work.”

            Laurent stared at him. “Will you stop being so sappy?”

            “Sappy?” answered Damen, trying not to look too offended. “I’m not the one with two different versions of _Pride and Prejudice_ next to my bed.”

            The blond man clicked his tongue, shaking his head in an annoyed gesture. “First of all, comparative studies of the same work is a fascinating hobby,” Damen started laughing, and Laurent spoke a little louder, meaning to be extremely serious, “and Jane Austen’s _Pride and Prejudice_ is an incredible story that needs to be seen.” Damen was still laughing, a laugh that showed his teeth and made crinkles appear in the corner of his eyes. Laurent rolled his. “It doesn’t make me sappy.”

            “There’s nothing wrong with being sappy in the first place,” answered Damen, still chuckling. “Although I understand now why you were so angry at me going through your stuff. You have secrets. But you know, you should accept yourself for who you are. You don’t have to hide your Jane Austen Number One Fan flag. It’s alright. Be who you are,” Damen would have kept going had Laurent not thrown his napkin in his face.

            The waitress had come back with their drinks and Damen was getting increasingly happy about the evening’s turn of events when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder dramatically. He slowly turned, glaring at the perfect nails that were pressing into his skin.

            “Damen? You? Here?”

            Damen pinched his lip, all the joy in his body leaving at once, something that the girl in front of him had a special talent for. Sucking the well-being out of him with a smile. And yet, as much as he wanted to be angry at her, he felt a pang of sadness in his heart, as he always did when she was near. He hadn’t seen her in several months, and he had been sure she would get out of his life for good this year. He glanced at Laurent, that was looking at the scene with a new found interest. Damen cleared his throat. “Jokaste. Yes. Me. Here. At college. The college I am going to. That you knew I was still at. How surprising and unexpected.”            

            She cocked her head to one side. “Don’t be so bitter. It’s rude and it doesn’t suit you.”

            _I have every right to be_ , wanted to answer Damen, his jaw clenched and his eyes blazing with fury. _There it is. The anger I was looking for._ “What are you doing here? I thought you had graduated and left me behind?”

            “That I did,” Jokaste answered, taking a step back from the table. “I had to come back today for administration stuff. I got hungry. Wanted to check on you, see how things were going.”

            “Why?” managed to say Damen. “Literally, why? Don’t you think you could have done that sooner? Like, for example, when we were still-” Laurent had both his eyebrows raised, and Damen sighed. _Not the time. Not now._ He got up and gently but firmly pushed Jokaste away from their table, walking away from Laurent. He was not going to make a scene in front of him, and if he could avoid making a scene at all, it would be even better. He was tired of it. Been there, done that. The wounds were still extremely fresh in his memory, and he would not let her kill his good mood. She would be too happy about it.

            “You know, it doesn’t make me happy to make you angry like this,” she stated as she walked back to her table.

            “Arguing with the things that I’m thinking in silence inside my head. That’s another level,” muttered Damen behind her, making sure she would sit back down and not bother him.

            “What?”

            “Nothing,” he said louder.

            Jokaste glared at him. “You need to stop doing that. Mumbling comebacks people can’t hear. It’s rude.”

            “Trust me,” Damen snapped back, “It’d be ruder if I actually said it. And don’t tell me what to do. And leave me alone. I’m trying to be positive about life. I can’t do that if you're staying behind me when all I want is to eat a pizza.”

            They reached Jokaste’s table, where she sat back down in front of a man Damen had never seen before. He greeted him anyway, out of politeness. The man did not pay any kind of attention to him. First Jord, now him. Damen made a mental note to ask someone for the memo next time it was  _national ignoring guys that are trying to be friendly and live an honest life day_ , so that he’d avoid going out of his room altogether.

            “By the way,” said Jokaste as Damen was walking away, “Who’s that blond with you at the table? Is he a freshman you saved from the first day, just like you always do?” She turned to the man in front of her. “He has a savior complex,” she told him matter-of-factly.

            “I do not have a savior complex,” answered Damen. “It’s called being nice.”

            “Savior complex,” she repeated. “Tell me he’s not a freshman you were responsible of today? You always got out of your way doing these things. You’re going to end up marrying one, one day.”

            Damen didn’t see how that would be a bad thing, but he did not want to argue about Jokaste either. He was walking away for real, when he heard them laugh behind his back, and in a very impulsive gesture, that he was sure he would regret later, he turned around and blurted out four simple words. “He’s my boyfriend.”

            Jokaste gave him a look that he knew meant _you, my boy, are full of shit_ , and he tried to keep his ground, knowing full well he was the worst liar in the universe and that this could fuck up really fast, and make him look more ridiculous than ever. He gave her what he thought looked like a confident smile and slowly walked back to his table before she could ask him anymore questions. He sat back down in front of his pizza, that had arrived in the meantime. Laurent had started eating his, looking at the scene from afar.

            “I’m sorry about this,” Damen said, trying to act normal. “She went to college here, too. We used to date. It didn’t end well. But it’s fine now. She’s gone. I mean not just right now, she’s really gone. She’s going to medical school. Anyway. Not interesting. Definitely not something I want to talk about.”

            Laurent nodded thoughtfully. He looked over Damen’s shoulder, calm and composed. “Alright. You do know she’s coming back toward us right now, though, don’t you?”

            Damen accidentally let his fork drop in his plate, panicking. “Laurent, do you trust me?”

            “Not particularly, no,” answered Laurent with a careless shrug.

            “I should never have done this,” started Damen. “If she asks anything, you’re supposed to be my boyfriend.”

            Laurent, that had gone back to cutting his huge pizza in small pieces, raised his head slowly, squinting at the man in front of him, that was sliding in his chair, trying to compose himself and act natural. “Come again?”

            “Boyfriend. You. Me. Explain later,” Damen whispered as Jokaste made a final step next to their table. She put her hands on her hips, showing off a smile that had as much venom as Laurent had had in his earlier. Damen glared at the two of them, wondering why these things always happened to him, and what exactly what his damage. “I thought we finished our conversation…?” He asked as casually as he could.

            “Not talking to you,” said Jokaste. She turned to Laurent, crossed her arms against her chest. “I hear you two are dating. Look at me in the eyes and tell me it’s true. I categorically refuse to believe that.”

            Damen could literally feel the drop of sweat on his forehead. He was praying that Laurent would at least play along for tonight, that they could settle it later, that he would understand it was just for the sake of 10 small minutes. Damen was trying to scream via intense staring. A wild, mischievous smile spread on Laurent’s face, and he inhaled slowly, taking his time to answer.

            “We are,” answered Laurent, and Damen could have kissed him just for that answer. Actually, he could have kissed him for a lot of reason, but that was the strongest one right now. He felt a burst of relief in his chest as he looked at Jokaste with triumph. They talked for a few minutes, but Damen had tuned out, looking at Laurent’s face like he was an actual angel that came from heaven, not a freshman that had been rude to him all day. Jokaste ended up leaving, taking out her phone as she walked back to the table.

            “Thank you so, so, so, so, so much,” started Damen as soon as she was out of hearing reach. “I owe you, like, a thousand different things. I’ll do anything you want.”

            Laurent nodded. “That’s nice. I always wanted a man servant.”

            Damen laughed too, until he realized it had probably been a bad idea to tell him that he could ask for anything. _To hell with it_ , he thought. He would trust Laurent. That was probably another bad idea, but Damen had faith. And that’s what mattered, right? He ate a bite of his pizza, smiling like an idiot as he watched Laurent slowly down his beer.

            “Stop smiling at me like that,” said Laurent. Damen nodded, but kept smiling. “Seriously. It’s creepy.”

            “I think you and I are going to be best friends,” answered Damen.

            Laurent frowned. Damen didn’t have time to say anything else, his phone vibrating in his pocket. He unlocked it and stared at the text message he had just received, his smile dying down as quickly as it had appeared. He gulped as he set the phone down next to his pizza.

            “Alright, don’t be mad,” started Damen. “But, like, Jokaste might have… Uh…” He decided he did not want to be the bearer of bad news, and turned the phone around for Laurent to see. On the screen was written _JORD,_ and under that, the text message he had sent. _jokaste just told me the news… how are u and laurent having dinner and being all couply already?????? tf??? how do u do that???? every year???? i can’t wait to see the other guy’s reactions when i tell them.. u slut_

            Laurent raised his head from the phone to stare at Damen. Damen gave him that smile again, where his eyes had a vacant expression but he was trying to look as cute, and nice, and innocent as possible.

            “Damen,” said Laurent very slowly. “Go to Jokaste, and go tell her this was a joke.”

            “Listen,” answered Damen as the drops of sweats made their apparition on his forehead again. “We can fix this. We can tell Jord without him telling Jokaste. This doesn’t have to be a big deal. Don’t make me tell Jokaste.”

            “Damen,” repeated Laurent even slower. “I’m going to kill you.”

            “Let’s not freak out just yet,” Damen said as he received another text message. _GOVART: bro that one looked like he would never date anyone in a million years did u have sex with him yet lol._ “How does he even have my number? I hate him?” asked Damen to his phone, waiting for an answer that never came.

            “Enough,” said Laurent as he got up. “If you’re not going, I’ll tell her myself.”

            Damen gripped his wrist as he walked past. “Please. Trust me. I can fix this without too much damage. Just give me one day.”

            “Why would I do that?” asked Laurent, shifting his arm so that he’d be free from Damen’s clutch. “And don’t touch me.”

            “It’s a matter of honor. Please. It’s in your interest, too. I’ve seen how carefully you talk to people. You want them to like you. This won’t happen if we handle that badly.”

            “I’m pretty sure I can handle myself. I don’t really care about your reputation,” answered Laurent.

            Damen felt bad for even thinking about saying what he was about to say. “I have in my hand the phone number of more students than I even know. I've been here for three years, you've been here a day. Do you want to bet you can do that on your own?”

            Laurent thought about it, and slowly sat back down, raising his hand in a gesture Damen wanted to believe meant _peace_. “24 hours to set things properly. I’m not going to be your fake boyfriend for longer than that.”

            _You could be my real boyfriend_ , Damen’s brain automatically said. _The hell is wrong with you,_ he answered to himself. “You have to trust that I’ll handle it properly,” said Damen instead, looking for confidence in himself. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he added. _LOL!!! KEEP US UPDATED!!!!_ added Govart via text message. “And I’m deleting his number,” Damen muttered as he tried to think about how he was going to deal with the mess.                       


	3. Expiration Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “A relationship with an expiration date?” asked Damen.  
> “A fake agreement ending on December 25th.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when i said i would update fast and then i lied lmao well.  
> anyway now here it Is shoutout to samantha i'm sorry my update delay broke ur heart but now it can Heal

Damen was lying in bed, trying to sleep and only managing to remember the events of the day, that had been as wild as they’d been unexpected. He was overall feeling bad about it, but there was a small part of him that had found intriguing how Laurent had reacted to the whole thing. He would probably laugh about it in a few weeks, if everything went back to normal, but there was something about the blonde’s eyes that had made him realize that he would love to challenge him to whatever he could think of. Laurent had a glint in those hypnotizing blue irises that called for a fight. Damen did not want to look for trouble too much, but it was tempting. He wanted to see where he could push Laurent, and kept reminding himself this was not something he should think of. He would respect whatever Laurent felt like doing, instead of sneakily coercing him into doing whatever would be fun. Damen wondered if Laurent brought forward that side of everyone he met, or if it was somehow just him that resonated to that silent call for a challenge.

Damen was having trouble sleeping. It was getting relatively problematic considering classes started early the next morning, and he did not want to be late to his first classes. He rolled around and stared at Laurent’s bed, that was covered in a huge blanket that he thought was completely unnecessary in that heat. The blonde’s man hair was the only thing that was visible in the rays of moonlight the half closed blind allowed in the room, and it gave an eerie look to the man’s head, slightly changing the strand’s color every time a cloud messed with the light. Damen was absorbed by the sight, and he didn’t know how long he stayed there, feeling weirdly calm, looking at Laurent’s unmoving head. It was probably a long time, considering he was abruptly cut by Laurent’s voice.

“I can feel your eyes on my back,” muffled the man, slowly shifting to turn and face his roommate. Damen promptly switched position, staring at the ceiling like it had been the thing captivating his attention. He decided not to say anything. “You should be sleeping.”

“So should you,” answered Damen, in a tone of voice that, even he had to admit, was kind of lame. 5 years old had better comebacks.

Laurent’s blanket moved suddenly, and he was out of bed the next second. Damen was almost startled, and wondered what the man was going to do so late at night in his pajamas. He thought about asking, but the reason his roommate was up became clear soon enough. He was digging in the bag he had left next to his bed for a pack of cigarettes, shoving one in his mouth before looking for the lighter. He eventually found it, giving Damen no attention whatsoever. Damen was trying to find something to say, and ended up asking if he could come. Laurent just stared and shrugged, which Damen decided to take for a yes, because it was better than thinking he had just been brutally rejected again. He got up, trying to find his shoes next to his bed without turning the lights on. He found them as Laurent was opening the door to leave. As they walked in the dimly lit hallways, Damen realized Laurent was wearing jeans, and had put on a jacket that looked way more fashionable than his pajamas had.

“Do you change every time you have to smoke a cigarette?” asked Damen in what he thought was a casual, _I don’t really care about the answer anyway_ tone.

Laurent glared at him. “I don’t particularly enjoy going outside during the night wearing sweatpants and nothing else.”

Damen looked at himself. He was topless, which he had been reminded many times was something that worked for him, but he wasn’t scared of being cold, if that’s what Laurent implied. He didn’t think he was taking any risks by getting out of bed for ten minutes. He hardly thought it was a reason to get dressed.

“So you’re sensitive to cold, then?”

“I’m not overly found of the idea of random people walking around at night seeing _me_ walking around barefoot in pajamas,” Laurent just answered.

“So I’m privileged?” answered Damen without thinking. Laurent did not answer, and he insisted. “I’m the only one that’ll get to see you in your pajamas. I’m honored.”

 Laurent pinched his lips, opening the door of the building silently. Damen stayed standing beside him as he sat on the bench, legs perpendicular to it, a tight position that made Damen want to repeat him to relax until he did. As he realized that he wanted his roommate to relax, he also understood that maybe Laurent wasn’t as outgoing as he was. It was something Damen often forgot, that he was very easily talkative and open to people, but that not everyone could afford that. It made him want to repeat to Laurent that he had nothing to be afraid of. No, not afraid, Damen thought. It wasn’t fear that held the blonde man back so severely. It was something else. Something that sounded like years of training not to let anything show. It wasn’t the usual stress of first years not managing to sleep before their first day, and it didn’t look like any kind of anxiety. It looked like deliberate distance. Damen was intrigued. He wondered if the night setting fit an open hearted discussion about the dark part of themselves, and he almost went for it, trying to think of something that would get him to know if he was the problem or if it was anything else. He wanted to solve it, whatever it was.

“What are you looking at?” Laurent asked.

“Uh,” Damen started. He asked himself if making a joke about being fake boyfriends for twenty four hours would be funny to Laurent, and then wisely decided that maybe he could avoid that kind of humor. He dodged the disaster and decided to be serious. He felt like Laurent had no idea that Damen had the possibility to be. Somehow, it was important to Damen that Laurent knew that. “I was wondering why you looked so angsty and serious.”

Laurent squinted at him. “Angsty?”

Damen gave him a half shrug. “I’ll be honest, I was initially going with uptight.”

“You can’t think of any reason?” asked Laurent. “I’m sure you can.”

There was something in his voice that made Damen want to find the answer to that question. He wanted to make Laurent proud. He shook off the feeling, knowing that’s exactly what his roommate was looking for. “I don’t know. It doesn’t look like it would be the first day at college. You don’t look like something’s really upsetting you. You just look…” Damen was trying not to be rude, and as Laurent raised his eyebrow, he realized he didn’t really care about being rude or not. Maybe what Laurent needed was rude honesty. “Mildly disgusted by everything around you in a very pretentious way.”

“That’s my resting face,” said Laurent as he threw the butt of his cigarette away. He walked past Damen, a good feet away.

“I don’t believe that,” said Damen, in a desperate attempt to make better contact, and also because he wanted to see Laurent smile. He wanted to see if he could do that.

Laurent looked at him, and Damen believed he would succeed for half a second. The blond’s face broke into a tiny smirk, and went back to normal. “You’re right. It’s not my resting face. It’s only when you’re around.” Without another word, he opened the door and walked back in, leaving Damen to his beautiful, lonely, useless moonlight setting.

He was just standing there, deciding that there was no reason he should continue to try and be nice to someone that enjoyed being a dick for no reason. Maybe Laurent was just one of these people that thought that being mean looked cool. Something was off, though. Laurent seemed like he just enjoyed knowing he could annoy people if he wanted. He wasn’t sure the man did it for anything else but the beauty of the sport. As he wondered why he was desperately trying to defend someone he barely knew just because he had a pretty face, he heard someone yell mockingly from the window.

“Couple fight?”

“Shut up, Jord,” just answered Damen. He walked back in the building, deciding that he felt more pissed at Laurent than challenged, and that he would solve this boyfriend situation the next morning, and that he could give up on the dream of having a nice roommate that could be his best friend forever. There were worse things. He walked back to his room, thinking he wouldn’t cry about it forever, and that if it was _that_ bad, he could always ask to change roommates. He was sure Laurent would be happy about it, too. He opened the door, silently, still thinking that even if they didn’t like each other, there was no reason he should slam the door and potentially wake him up. He looked completely asleep, his breathing even, but he was facing the wall, and it was impossible for Damen to confirm if it was bullshit or if Laurent had actually fallen asleep that fast. _Why do you care_ , he told himself.

He argued about it with his own brain for about another hour before _he_ managed to go to sleep.

***

When Laurent woke up in the morning, Damen was snoring in his bed, smiling in his sleep the same smile that seemed to be _his_ resting face. Laurent stood there, staring at his ridiculous little smirk, mouth half opened. He looked like he was dreaming of puppies. Five minutes went past before he shook himself off, refusing to start staring at his intriguing roommate the way he stared at _him_. Especially because he didn’t want to give him false hopes. That fake boyfriend thing had to _go_. And it had to go today.

He was silent as he took his clothes to shower and change, and he did not make a sound as he packed his bags. He waited silently on his bed, Damen still sleeping, until it was the time to go to class. He waited a bit more, dragging the moment until he would have to rush to get in class on time, and he got up, banging a book on the desk. He slammed the door behind him, chuckling as he heard Damen wake up suddenly, making a noise that was half a groan, half a scream. Laurent was trying to stop smiling as he hurried to his class, not wanting to be that guy that laughed alone. Not wanting to be Damen, only a few years younger. He wondered how his roommate hadn’t heard the commotion around him, how loud the people in the hallways were, how noisy everyone was in the morning. He envied him, to be able to sleep so soundly when the world around was screaming. Laurent never quite managed. Not waking up for _one_ important phone call in the middle of the night that could have allowed him to have other last words for his brother than _whatever, have fun_ had left a scar somewhere in his body. Now, any noise woke him up. It used to be just the tiniest object falling to the ground that got him up in a cold sweat, reaching for his phone like he could have a second chance. He remembered thinking that, months after it had happened. _I woke up fast enough I woke up fast enough please please please please_ , only to realize it was just a cat meowing outside. Only his uncle closing the door of his bedroom, thinking he had been silent in the constant lurking Laurent had hated. Sleeping as the world moved around him was a luxury for Laurent. There wasn’t much he couldn’t afford. That was one of those things.

He reached his first class right on time, slipping through the door as it closed. He looked at the room, trying to decide where it would be best to sit. He didn’t want to have front rows – everyone behind him would see what he was doing. He didn’t want to sit in the last rows – he needed his professors to think he was at least a tiny bit interested in what was happening. He was attempting to find someone that looked easy to convince that Laurent had other things to do but that he still needed the lessons. Someone that would take those lessons correctly. Someone that would be usable at will. His gaze stopped on a young man that was taking his notebooks out of his bag, looking focused and ready to learn about law. A notebook. He was practically the only one that chose to write instead of type on a computer. Laurent almost laughed again. Perfect. He walked to him, asking if he could sit beside him.

“Laurent,” he just said, nodding as a greeting.

“Aymeric,” answered the boy enthusiastically. “Ready for your first day?”

Laurent sighed dramatically, and sat down. “Not really, but what can you do?”

Aymeric nodded as if he understood perfectly what the man meant. He was about to say something else, but their teacher started speaking, and he shut up. Laurent side eyed him, pretending to look for his computer in his bag. He let enough time for Aymeric to side eye him back, wondering what was going on but not sure he could ask. Laurent clicked his tongue, trying to look more and more pissed.

“What’s going on?” finally asked Aymeric.

Laurent shook his head, doing his best to try and go as far as blush. “I was so late this morning, I think I forgot to pack my computer.”

“Do you want a piece of paper and a pen?”

“I’ll never manage,” said Laurent, looking embarrassed. “It’s too much work, typing them back on the computer afterward. Don’t worry. I can try to remember most of the class. It’s fine.” Aymeric turned his head back to the teacher, and Laurent almost groaned. He contained it, trying to push it a bit more. “A first class can’t be that important, right?”

There was an awkward silence, and Aymeric finally turned around again. “Look, I don’t mind typing them back on my computer afterward, it helps me learn. Do you want me to send it to you?”

Laurent’s smile was kind and happy to anyone that didn’t care to look further. There weren’t a lot of people that would have known the stretching of his lips was actually more sly and victorious than anything else. “That’d be awesome, Aymeric.” The man nodded absently, going back to his notes. “If it doesn’t bother you too much, of course,” added Laurent quickly. “I really wouldn’t want to be _that guy_.”

“Look, Laurent, it’s cool. Don’t beat yourself up,” Aymeric just answered with a kind smile – a genuine one, compared to the one Laurent had gave him.

The two hours went by quickly. Laurent had forgotten his computer, maybe, but he hadn’t forgotten the book he had meant to finish yesterday, and he settled against the wall, looking up from times to times, listening with one hear to what their teacher was saying. He knew he only had to reread Aymeric’s notes in the evening, and he’d be ready for the next class. The goal was to find someone that would do the big part of the work for him in every class. He believed himself capable of doing exactly that. His pile of book was big. He had all year. Aymeric and he parted as the class ended, Laurent pretending he would go to get his computer during the small break he had to avoid having to spend it with someone else. He walked outside to smoke, sitting somewhere near where a bunch of students were playing American football with not enough brutality for Laurent to enjoy. It looked like a friendly game, and Laurent had no interest in those. He was checking his phone when he heard a voice in his hear. He knew that voice, and he smiled as he turned around.

“Nicaise. What are you doing here?”

“Missed me?” asked the boy as he sat down next to Laurent.

Laurent considered. He had known that unlike many students here, going to college didn't mean he was leaving his family behind. His uncle was the head of the law department, which meant that his son would be around campus all the time, looking to annoy Laurent as much as he could, which was something that didn't change from the usual routine. Only he was closer now. Laurent would have missed it had he went somewhere else. “No,” he just answered, going back to his book. “I’m really focused on this thing I’m reading right now, so go bother someone else.”

“Like your boyfriend?” said Nicaise as slyly as Laurent could have, which was a rare talent, and also probably genetic. “I could go bother him.”

“Yes,” answered Laurent dryly, staying focused on his book. “Excellent idea. Go bother him. Please.”

“You’re a liar,” Nicaise announced, as if it was the truest thing he had ever said.

Laurent pressed his two fingers against his eyelid, rubbing them. “Everything you say physically tire me.”

Nicaise shrugged. “How long do you think you could take up that lie?”

There was an interesting silence. Laurent didn’t want to take up that bet, but backing up in front of Nicaise was impossible. It would mean the first time he lost such a fight – and without even fighting in the first place. Nicaise’s smile was impossible to tone down. He had known from the start this would be fun, and that Laurent would work with him, and now he just wanted to see Laurent drive Damen mad.

“Nicaise, find another hobby,” said Laurent.

“I bet you won’t manage to pretend you’re with him until Christmas.”

Laurent took a deep breath. He closed his eyes. He did _not_ want to do this. He tried to come up with something that could be used as blackmail to keep that from happening, and he didn’t find anything. He would, though. He was sure he could turn back that situation to his advantage. Nicaise was smart, and he was good at bets and challenges, but facing Laurent, he barely ever managed to fall back on his feet. This wouldn’t be any different, thought Laurent. “Fine. Christmas.”

Nicaise squinted, suspicious. Laurent didn’t blame him. “Alright,” he ended up saying. “Let’s shake hands. To your new relationship.”

Laurent almost shook hands, and stopped at the last moment. “You came looking for shit, so you let me deal with it my way. No running off screaming about it to everyone or you lose.” Nicaise shrugged, and Laurent extended his hands. He kept the boy’s hand in his for a second. “I’m sure I can find Damen a proper use besides being fake boyfriend.” Nicaise snorted. “Off you go,” he told him. “I have to warn him before he makes the whole thing drown. I wouldn’t want to lose one hour into a bet.”

Without waiting for any answer, Laurent grabbed his back and got up, ignoring Nicaise’s shouts of _good luck_ and _have fun_. He stopped the first senior that was on the side of the field and asked him if he knew where Damen was. The guy gave him a smirk and pointed to the building in front of them. Laurent sighed internally but thanked him, walking as fast as he could without looking like he was hurrying. He found Damen easily. He was talking louder than anyone else, but not in an annoying way. In a way that was inviting. Laurent pictured Damen as a first year, screaming _be my friend_ at anyone that would listen. The man was sharing his apple with someone else, smiling and repeating that he wouldn’t be hungry.

“Damen,” Laurent said, cutting the conversation short. He was standing a bit too far away for it to sound like it was curtsy visit. The person he was talking to understood pretty quickly this was a private discussion, and backed away slowly.

Damen frowned at Laurent as he got near. “You purposely got me late this morning.”

“It’s not my fault if you can’t hear your alarm clock,” just answered Laurent. “Speaking of annoying noises in the morning, you snore.”

There was a silence. “That’s all you wanted to say?” asked Damen. He suddenly looked much colder than he had been all the other times they had talked. Laurent was slightly taken aback, which was something he hated. “If you’re going to be mean for no reason again because you think that’s the right way to talk to people, I don’t really care.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned away, walking to join the person that had just left them. “I have a mess to fix. Twenty four hours, remember?”

Laurent stood there for a second, upset, and found his composure back quickly. “Wait, Damen,” he said. He wasn’t sure this would work, but Damen believed in forgiveness and the goodness of people, and he stopped. Laurent was not surprised, but he was glad. “Look. Change of plans.”

“Change of plans?” asked Damen. Laurent gestured to him, inviting to get closer. “What do you mean, change of plans?”

“We need to be dating,” said Laurent blankly. “I got myself into a bet. We need to keep this thing lowkey going. Not showy enough that I actually have to do something, but clear enough that no one has doubts.”

Damen stared at him, and started laughing. Laurent didn’t laugh, and Damen gradually stopped. “Wait. You mean that?”

Laurent clicked his tongue. “I do.”

Damen giggled. Laurent didn’t. Damen giggled again. Laurent closed his eyes. Damen started laughing. “This is so funny,” just said Damen. He pretended to laugh about it for another minute, and he stopped abruptly. “Not. It’s not funny. Why would I help you?”

“I’m going to make your life a living hell if you don’t,” threatened Laurent.

“I could literally pick you up and put you in the trash and your weak ass muscles couldn’t do anything to prevent that from happening,” just answered Damen.

Laurent was upset. Threatening usually worked. He was going about it the wrong way. He was not getting Damen at all. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Damen wasn’t supposed to be the challenge. The dating thing was. His roommate kept being something Laurent did not expect. It was unnerving. It was interesting, but Laurent did not want to focus on that. “I punch harder than you think,” he just answered finally, but his tone was showing more defeat than he wanted to.

“Right,” said Damen. He stayed anyway, not expecting Laurent to give up so easily. Laurent hated that it seemed as if Damen understood much more Laurent than _he_ understood Damen. “Why would I help you?” he repeated, giving him another chance.

“Because,” Laurent said, his brain working fast to find a good reason. He would not beg for it. “You get to keep Jokaste’s impressed face embedded in your brain.”

“Not good enough,” answered Damen.

“I wasn’t done,” answered Laurent. He crossed his arms against his chest. On top of everything else, he really didn’t like that Damen was so tall. It was attractive and unpractical and Damen towering over him made Laurent feel weak in a good way, which was not going to happen. “You owe me something for telling Jokaste I was dating you. I bet you care about promises.” Damen shifted on his feet, and that’s all Laurent needed. “And I’ll have to be nicer to be convincing. I’ll be much less annoying. You want that. Until Christmas. That’s all I need.”

“A relationship with an expiration date?” asked Damen.

“A _fake agreement_ ending on December 25th. We need rules, and everything, but we can talk about that later,” added Laurent, his brain already thinking about his next move. He didn’t intend on doing this for months. He would find something to stop Nicaise’s ridiculous bet way before December. “I just want your word that you’ll keep your mouth shut.”

Damen considered. There were a thousand things going on in his brown eyes, but Laurent didn’t quite know how to decipher them yet. He didn’t want to bet it would come.

“Let’s be boyfriends,” just said Damen. “We eat at eight tonight,” he just added before turning around with a wink. Laurent had been scared he would do something more showy, like kissing, or touching him, but he didn’t. Laurent was glad he hadn’t. He thought that he was glad it was Damen it was happening with, and he wondered why he had just thought that. He didn’t know the guy that much. For all he knew, maybe this would the first time he would lose a bet to Nicaise. It took two to dance a tango – as fake as it could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not gonna promise chap 4 soon but i think chap 4 will be up soon


End file.
